The Duke's Temptation

by Raven McAllan

  She had to commend his forethought.

  “So what brings you here, Cornelia?” That was Gibb.

  “You have compromised me. You will have to marry me.” Evangeline assumed the speaker was Cornelia Crowe. Her voice was high and excited. “We need to go and tell my parents at once.”

  Evangeline went down on her knees and glanced through a tiny knothole in the door she’d noticed earlier. As she’d hoped, Cornelia had her back to where Evangeline knelt. She held a glass in one hand and waved it around. “You turned Margaret down, and she wouldn’t try to do anything else, but I will. The Tarporlys have no spine. The Crowes are different. You upset Denby, and now he is snapping at us all. Papa has lost all our money in the gambling dens, I am here alone with you, so you will have to marry me.”

  “And rescue your family, I presume,” Gibb drawled.

  “Exactly,” Cornelia said in triumph. “You have enough to do that and still be as rich as Croesus.”

  “Not quite, but do go on.”

  “You will marry me and I will be a duchess.”

  “No.” Gibb sounded bored.

  “No?” Cornelia said with astonishment. “You have to.”

  “Wrong, I don’t.”

  “Ha, if you do not I will tell everyone you ruined me.” She stamped her foot. Evangeline rolled her eyes, even though no one could see her. What next? Drumming her heels or thumping the table with her fists? Or just noisy tears?

  Through her tiny view hole Evangeline watched Gibb shrug. “Go ahead, you will not be believed.”

  “I will, for I will scream and insist you molested me,” Cornelia announced. Her eyes sparkled with malicious glee. “What do you say about that?”

  “The same as before. Go ahead,” Gibb invited. “It will do no good. I am not one you can blackmail or coerce. It will be you who comes off worse.”

  She opened her mouth only to shut it in astonishment as Henry and Mary appeared, one out of the cupboard, one from behind it, like two jack-in-the-boxes, and stood in the middle of the room.

  “What do you need help for?” Henry asked. “Nothing seems amiss.”

  Cornelia dropped her glass and her face went from mottled to ashen. “B-but…” she stammered. “He ruined me. I was alone with him, so he has to marry me. He has to.”

  Evangeline sighed. No doubt Cornelia would now stamp her foot again and pout.

  She did.

  “Silly girl, of course he hasn’t,” Henry said in an aristocratic drawl Evangeline envied. “We were here all along. Now we can tell the truth—that we saw you try to blackmail his grace into marrying you, to whit by lying that you were here with him alone. Or, if we feel it is worth our while, and you might learn something from this sorry mess, we can tell everyone you came with us to say how brave he was with all those knives flying around. The choice, Miss Crowe, is yours.”

  There was a pregnant silence. Outside someone walked by chattering loudly in a light female voice and was answered by a deep baritone. Gibb took Cornelia’s glass from her and filled it. “Miss Crowe, I did nothing to harm your family, and if Denby told you I did, he lied. In fact, I have had little to do with him. He is a good ten years younger than I. The sole time I have actively faced him down was when he tried to intimidate La Belle Evangeline, the knife-thrower. I would have done the same to any man who terrorized a lady. Those are not the actions of a gentleman let alone a peer. He did our sex a disservice that night, and has continued to do so. Does he know you are here?”

  Cornelia sniffed, wiped her eyes and shook her head. “But if you don’t want Margaret Tarporly, and you don’t want me, who do you want?”

  “No one.”

  Evangeline nodded to herself. It was as she’d envisaged. She needed to think hard. Not at that moment, for Cornelia broke into noisy tears.

  “Enough.” Mary spoke for the first time. “You brought this on yourself, you silly girl. Now be quiet, blow your nose and tell me how you got here, and who knows your whereabouts.”

  Cornelia shook her head. “No one knows. I crept out and came in a hackney. I used my pin money.”

  “Good lord, you idiot,” Mary burst out. “Do you know what could have happened? Do you? Argh.” She flung her hands in the air. “Do you have no sense whatsoever?”

  “Mary, enough now.” Henry spoke firmly. “She is an idiot, I agree, but I suspect it is up to us to make sure she doesn’t add ruination to stupidity. Come, Cornelia, we will take you up with us and hope you can get into your home unnoticed.”

  Cornelia sniffed. “My maid is waiting to let me in.”

  “Thank the lord for a grain of sense,” Gibb said. “Even if it is miniscule.” There was a muttered conversation between Gibb and Henry, before Henry and Mary escorted a still-sniffing Cornelia out.

  Gibb waited until the door had closed and their footsteps receded into the distance then walked across to the door that shielded Evangeline and Wiggs. They both looked up at him, Wiggs shamefaced, Evangeline not so.

  Evangeline smiled. “Hello. That went in an excellent manner I think.”

  “You can come out now,” Gibb said evenly. “What if you had sneezed?”

  “But we didn’t. How did you know we were here?”

  “I know you,” he said, and winked.

  Chapter Eight

  Dissatisfaction was a hard bedfellow. Gibb threw back the bedcovers in disgust, strode naked into his bathing chamber and thought about what he wanted to accomplish over the next few days. He had to vote in the House the following evening, check that Crowe and his sister had left the capital as he had demanded and also speak to Evangeline. The problem with the last part of his mental list was that he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. Did he want to move their friendship forward? Did he want to risk spoiling what they had? At present they spoke freely to each other and neither seemed to have the need to temper what they said.

  They embraced when they met and when they parted. He could tell by the way she stood, the way her body reacted, that she was as affected by him as he was her. His body hardened to the point of pain when he held her close.

  But to take a step toward intimacy? Was it right? Was it fair? He knew there was no fail-safe method of avoiding an unwanted child other than abstinence, or playing, as he thought Evangeline might say.

  Even then it could easily get out of hand. With a mistress, someone world-wise, precautions could be taken, and it could be a way of sating himself if nothing else. However, he was sure, by the way Evangeline had reacted to his erection the first time she’d felt it next to her, she was unspoiled and innocent and wasn’t someone prepared to be taken advantage of in such a way.

  For the first time in years he felt uncomfortable at using a woman—any woman, not merely Evangeline—just to slake his desires, even if they knew and accepted it.

  He had to decide if it was right to ask her to change that state of affairs. Especially when he had no promises he could give her about a future—except there was not one together.

  No. I cannot do it.

  So he suffered cold baths and frustration. Even though there were plenty of women prepared to help him out, in some indefinable way Gibb thought of that as cheating.

  He flicked through the four-inch-high stack of invitations on his desk and wrinkled his nose at the perfume-scented ones, the coy ones and the downright blatant ones. By the time he’d sifted those out he was left with a handful of them he might perhaps be interested in.

  A card game for the following evening, a request from his solicitor to visit at his earliest convenience, with regards to a house he wished to purchase that might be available at last, and a note from Lady Lisette Tonge, a friend of his late mother’s whom he kept in touch with, interested him most. He glanced at his secretary, who stood waiting for instructions.

  “That lot can go in the bin.” He indicated the large pile. “Tell Dudley I will perhaps pop in, instruct my solicitor that he can set the purchase in motion and I will head to Lady Tonge�
�s after I’ve eaten. A note to say I will be with her at noon would be appropriate. It is, she always says, a good time to catch her at home and awake.”

  Evans nodded and made some notations on a tablet. Gibb smiled. “That’s it, I think.” He waited until Evans had left and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Evidently talk had started. Whoever had decided to gossip about them had done it in such a way it was like casting a stone on a pond and discovering how the ripples spread out. Lady Tonge had said little in her note except she needed to speak with him about his activities and interesting information he might want to be apprised of. As she was not one to cry wolf, and always had her thumb on the pulse of ton activities, Gibb would go and see what she had to say.

  For the first few days after the Vauxhall episode there had been very little bandied about with regards to the evening, other than that Gibb had seemed to be a very willing victim. Although Evangeline had been reluctant to be seen abroad with him, for she had said in earnest it would do him no good and set them both up for more unwanted speculation, she’d conceded she enjoyed his company and that their time together was not something she wanted to dismiss.

  Neither did he, so increased gossip was inevitable. Not that anyone had come out and asked him why he’d offered to be Evangeline’s partner. Then people had begun to remember they’d been seen together on other occasions. That Gibb had helped her when Crowe had allegedly, or definitely, depending on who the gossip was, been a little too friendly. Plus, how Crowe had spouted to everyone about the way Gibb could hardly keep his hands off Evangeline who, according to Crowe, nigh on ate Gibb with her eyes. No one had yet questioned Gibb about his version of that, but even so, he felt like a man besieged. He hadn’t seen Evangeline for a couple of days—she’d been performing at a special ladies’ evening as promised for Mary, he’d been giving a speech in the House. She’d helped Eloise with a rushed order, he’d accompanied Henry to Tatts to buy a horse. Little things that had conspired to keep them apart.

  However, ladies there were a plenty. One had even approached him between the aisles of Hatchards bookshop as he had searched for a specific book his housekeeper had wanted. He’d spoken to her so coldly he’d thought for a moment she might faint, before she’d turned on her heels and almost run away.

  Gibb had picked up the book and walked toward the assistant, who had watched the interchange with interest, although had neither interfered nor commented. If the volume had not been something he’d needed to purchase, he would have walked out. However, he did his best to treat his staff in a fair and reasonable way. The lady he’d chosen the gift for had grown up on his estate, learned to read and write and was an avid reader of gothic novels. This book was a present for her birthday. Gibb had accepted he was thought as eccentric in the way he treated his staff and he wasn’t at all bothered. Happy staff meant a smoothly run estate.

  He’d picked up his parcel, nodded and strode away, deep in thought. Tonight he had arranged supper at his home for Evangeline and himself. First, though, he had another long, boring city day to get through. What was he going to do once he’d visited Lisette Tonge?

  London was slowly driving him mad.

  * * * *

  “My dear Gibb, I wanted to see you alone,” Lisette Tonge said with a smile. “I hear rumors, and your dear mama would want me to apprise you of them.” She spoke in her charming accent as she patted his cheek and accepted the kiss to her hand. “Such a gentleman. Your mama would be proud of that part of you.” Her tone intimated, ‘but not all’. “Ah, I miss a rake, though. Would you like to practice that?”

  “It’s not me, I’m afraid. I’ll settle for the gentleman instead.” Gibb kissed her hand for the second time in as many minutes and ignored the rest. Would she ever get to the point of his visit? “However did Reginald cope with you?”

  She grinned. “He knew me, and accepted me for what I am. Something everyone should remember and practice. We are who we are.”

  “True.” Gibb thought of Hester. The anguish hovered but did not settle. Instead a sense of compassion for Hester’s unhappiness hit him. And the knowledge that whatever he had done would not have satisfied her. She had not had it in her to be happy.

  Five minutes later, Gibb was settled in a chair with a cognac. Somewhat early to be drinking the fiery spirit, but he knew Lady Tonge’s habits.

  “So,” Gibb said with a smile. “You have discussed Lady Arthur’s ball, Lady Attley’s ball, your grandchildren when they eventually appear, the weather, the price of candles and whether the latest on-dit regarding a perceived slight at Almack’s is true. None of which, I believe, is why I am here. Spill, my dear. What is on your mind?”

  Lady Tonge smiled and shrugged. “Perhaps nothing. Look, feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”

  “I would never be so crass,” Gibb protested, uneasily aware that on more than one occasion he had done that very thing to others.

  “Then, you are a friend of La Belle Evangeline, aren’t you?” she said in a rush. “I don’t want chapter and verse, a simple yes or no will do.”

  Trust Lisette to cut to the chase in such a way. “I know her,” he said cautiously as he wondered where the questioning was leading. “Why?”

  “My dear Gibb, can you never answer a question without another one?” Lisette said with a quirk to her lips. “I also know her, and wish to ask you something. Oh, not personal, but if you do not know her there is no point.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?” Lady Tonge asked in a puzzled voice.

  “Yes, I can answer a question without asking another one.”

  “Oh, you.” Lisette was silent for several seconds—a record, Gibb thought, for the garrulous Lisette Tonge—then buffed his shoulder and burst out laughing.

  Gibb joined in. It sounded somewhat rusty, as if laughter was unknown to him, as it had been until Evangeline, but he thought he was getting better at it.

  Eventually Lisette wiped her eyes. “I asked for that.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Gibb said. “And I’m glad we are on good enough terms for us to be so comfortable together.”

  “Pshaw,” She made a noise like a pot boiling. “I’ve dandled you on my knee, seen you go from petticoats to short coats and as you are now. If we can’t be informal, who can? And it is good to have someone I can be myself with. At my age those people get less and less.” Her eyes twinkled to show she didn’t care how old she was. “So, Evangeline?” she prompted. “Whilst I’m still breathing.”

  Gibb burst out laughing. “I’ve not been prevaricating,” he pointed out. “Nevertheless, I will say that I am friends with Evangeline. Just platonic friends,” he stressed. “Neither of us are looking for more. You know I will not be responsible for another’s being.”

  “You think not?”

  “I know not,” he said. “So why do you ask? That,” he added with a grin, “was a question without being related to a question.”

  Lisette shook her head in bewilderment. “Oh good, I think out of all that I got is that you are not friends who give each other succor, just friends.”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Then apart from all the gossip about you both, which I’m sure you have heard, and says you are intimate friends, I swear she reminds me of someone.” Lisette sat back in her chair and sipped her drink.

  “You do?” That caught his interest. The hints about gossip were, he decided, something to mull over later. After all it was inevitable, whatever either he or Evangeline wanted. “Who?”

  “That’s just it.” Lisette gave a very Gallic shrug. “I don’t know. It is so frustrating. We were at Vauxhall and saw your stunt and Crowe’s idiocy—I must say you coped with that in a manner that—yes, all right, stick to the point. I’ll say it for you. So, La Belle Evangeline. The way she stands, the tilt of her head, I don’t know, her silhouette. It reminds me of someone but I’ve scoured my mind and I cannot for the life of me remember who, nor if it is a male or a female. Does she h
ave relatives here?”

  It was Gibb’s turn to shrug. “I have no idea. She has never said and we don’t…don’t invite confidences as such.”

  “Pity. If I can remember who I will let you know. All that apart, people are talking, Gibb, so beware, both of you. Mud sticks.”

  * * * *

  “I met with Lady Tonge today,” Gibb said as he and Evangeline sat side by side, on a comfortable chaise and cradled brandy goblets in their respective hands.

  Evangeline hoped he didn’t notice the involuntary jerk she gave. “A lovely lady,” she said, proud of how her voice didn’t waver and she held her drink steady without it slopping over the rim. What was he doing meeting a lady old enough to be his mother?

  “You know her?” Gibb asked.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “She is also French.”

  “True. She is also not one to gossip, but gave me some news that she thought we needed to hear.”

  “Not Lord Crowe again?” Evangeline asked him. “I thought he was in the country.”

  “He is safely ensconced in Cheshire,” Gibb confirmed. “This was more along the lines of the fact she is sure you remind her of someone.”

  “Really?” Spots danced in front of Evangeline’s eyes and she swallowed several times to get rid of the nasty taste in her mouth. Was she going to learn something else she needed to know? Why had Lady Tonge not spoken to her again instead? “Who?”

  “Ah, that is the rub, Lisette has no idea. Just someone, she said. Do you have relatives in England? Or the rest of the country? Lisette has never been abroad since she came here as a young bride, so it must be over here.”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Evangeline said, aware she was being economical with the truth. However, after all, she didn’t know, did she? Evangeline hoped she didn’t look as dishonest as she felt. It was strictly true but… She really would have been no good as a spy. One look at her face and the thumbscrews would be out. Not for the first time she wondered if she should take Gibb into her confidence.